


older machines

by gigantic



Category: Bandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-17
Updated: 2009-07-17
Packaged: 2017-11-27 06:26:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/658915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gigantic/pseuds/gigantic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For once, they talk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	older machines

Brendon wants to smoke a cigarette once their attentions have begun to drift off. It's hot in his house, so Ryan follows him outside, rubbing his hand over the back of his head and then fanning his face. It's not nearly as hot outside, which Ryan doesn't get, falling into step with Brendon even though he hadn't mentioned that he planned to tag along. Brendon doesn't even comment on it though, simply pauses a second when he realizes and makes sure they're together.

"Why don't you smoke in the house?" Ryan asks.

"Shane doesn't like having the smell inside." Brendon shrugs. "It's better not to; he's right."

"Hm," Ryan says. He doesn't actually care. Brendon hasn't ever smoked in his place, and Ryan's never thought to ask, because it doesn't matter. He's reaching for conversation starters, he realizes, and clears his throat.

After walking a few paces, Brendon says, "Oh, I meant to play you guys this other thing. I had this melody on my mind yesterday while I was out."

Ryan says, "Play it when we get back or something," even though he's feeling more and more unmotivated now that they're out of the house. 

The atmosphere is nicer out here. He's not entirely sure if that's because of the breeze or if he's relieved to be out of the stilted pseudo-practice room they have now. Everybody's in the process of relocating and figuring out how to be Los Angeles transplants. Brendon has guitars, a bass, and a drum set of his own already, but Ryan's brought over one of his, too, and mostly they've spent the last couple days sitting around and playing riffs that don't really match up, don't really become anything. It's still early in the process. They're always scatterbrained when they start. It stills get frustrating though, had worn on Ryan more than usual tonight, to have ideas and not figure out how they start fit into a bigger picture. Eventually Spencer had said, "Well, Brendon was telling -- we had this idea that --" and Ryan got up to use the bathroom, because he had to pee, and also it was still fucking bizarre to hear Spencer talk about what he and Brendon ever did together.

"I played it for Spencer," Brendon says. "He says he likes it."

Ryan shifts his weight, cracking the knuckles in one hand idly. He says, "I have to hear it."

"Yeah," Brendon says. He throws a glance Ryan's way. The cigarette follows shortly thereafter, offering it up, but Ryan holds up his hand. 

"No, thanks," he says even though the smell of it is making him crave one of his own. He can -- he'll just wait until he can buy a new pack of his own.

Brendon says, "Okay," breaking it up into two syllables but not elaborating. "So you just wanted to stand around and watch me smoke?"

"I'm getting fresh air," Ryan says.

"Hm." Brendon fiddles with the edge of his t-shirt picking at a frayed thread and exhaling. "I thought you wanted you talk to me."

"Well," Ryan says. Mostly he'd just seen an opportunity. It's not like he's afraid of what Spencer could say, but if anything has to be said at all, Ryan's much more familiar with discussing shit like this with Brendon, even though they haven't actually spent an abundance of time having real conversations about their relationship before now.

Four weeks ago, Spencer had come to Ryan's house to watch Hitchcock movies. They'd never taken the time to sit down and really just watch _Rope_ or _Sabotage_ all the way through, so Spencer brought over takeout and Ryan had three random bottles of wine that he didn't remember buying. It was during the intermission between movies while Ryan changed the DVDs that Spencer stopped in the middle of recounting Brendon's random and ridiculous mission to buy aviator sunglasses for no reason. He'd changed tracks and said, "Look, not telling you seems like I'm hiding something, so you should know. Me and Brendon have been seeing each other more."

It was a stupid way to phrase it, Ryan thought, since Spencer and Brendon hung out all the time post-tour, but Ryan had known what he meant. Spencer sounding like he was trying to phrase anything in the first place had given it away clearly enough.

They haven't talked about it too much since, because Ryan asked Spencer what he was thinking and Spencer told Ryan he was overreacting. And, considering the situation, Ryan probably could have arranged to stay somewhere else while he waited to move into his new place in Thousand Oaks, but Brendon had already agreed by that point, and since he hadn't called to tell Ryan there was suddenly some reason Ryan couldn't stay with him after all, it was just easier to leave it.

Anyway. This is fine.

"So, Spencer showed me the pictures of the place," Brendon says, conversationally. "It looks good."

Ryan looks up and says, "Yeah," slapping his fingers against his thigh lightly. "You should come see it."

He can tell by the way that Brendon says, "Yeah," exhaling as the sound fades that he's not committed to it. Ryan doesn't care.

He says, "Or whatever."

Brendon looks around. "What does that mean?"

Nothing. Ryan knows it's weird, but he also knows there's nothing to _say_ that he hasn't already sort of said once. He shrugs. "Nothing."

"Spencer told me," Brendon says, dropping his cigarette and stubbing it out. He breathes out through his nose and then alternates, and Ryan watches the smoke rush out. "That you got pissed."

"I wasn't out there just, like, um. Losing my shit," Ryan says. That's not how it was at all.

"Oh, okay," Brendon says, calm, but Ryan recognizes the inflection in the response, because Brendon picked it up from him and Spencer.

"But you don't have any intention of understanding what it might be like for me," Ryan says. Brendon narrows his eyes. He's different from everyone else Ryan knows, though, craning his head in as he presses his lips together. The clue is in the slope of his neck or something. Brendon's really looking.

The first time they ever did anything, Brendon had asked a lot of questions, sitting half-naked on the bed in his apartment with a hand wrapped around Ryan's dick. He'd said, "Like this? Is that okay?" and sort of bit on his tongue, concentrated and amused, although Ryan couldn't really figure out what exactly was so funny. Nothing, probably. Brendon was like that. He'd said, "Should I touch your -- your balls, too?" and Ryan just nodded, saying, "Yeah. That's good," and pretended to have a little more experience than he technically did. It's wasn't like Brendon would be able to tell the difference.

Afterward -- after Ryan had come and Brendon had come, his boxer shorts still around his ankles, he'd said, "You're kind of bigger than me," sitting up and openly looking at their naked bodies. It hadn't even been a joke; Brendon was making a serious observation, but Ryan's breath hitched, and he laughed, one or two quick punches of air that prompted Brendon to smirk slowly, uncertain but still joining in on the moment. 

It's not a memory that comes up between them, but Ryan thinks about it sometimes. He thinks about stupid shit, like the way Brendon talked too much even back then and how he was the kind of kid that didn't think to just take his underwear all the way off.

Ryan says, "I didn't give you a hard time when you and Shane did your whole," and he lifts his hands, gesturing vaguely. "It's just better when you're upfront."

"You think I had people not tell you?" Brendon asks, pushing his glasses up on his nose, and Ryan can't tell if he's being facetious.

"Well," Ryan says. He thought so. The longer Brendon looks at him, the more he's confused about where the thread of the conversation has even led them. 

Brendon opens his mouth, like he's going to speak but then hesitates, shaking his head. He says, "Okay." Scratching his head, he turns to look at Ryan, still conspicuously silent despite how obvious it is from the way he's shifting back and forth that he has something to say.

"I'm not going to ask you about it, Brendon, so if you want so speak, it's up to you to --"

"I don't," Brendon says. He stops immediately, a switch flipped off. His spine is straight, and he watches Ryan evenly, lifting one shoulder and dropping it. 

Whatever. Ryan doesn't have the fucking time for any tantrum Brendon might be ready to throw at him for spelling things out plainly. 

"Alright," Ryan says. "Forget it."

"It's not about you," Brendon says, the words pitching high right at the end, almost like he's asking. Brendon holds his hand out, lets it hover in the air, hesitating, and then he finds the words again. "And I wouldn't do that."

He glances over his shoulder, toward the house. Ryan follows his line of sight and rolls his eyes, thankful a second later that he's not looking at Brendon as he does that. He says, "You want him here."

"No," Brendon says, a short chuckle startled out of him. "I can still have a conversation with you without needing Spencer here."

Ryan's pretty sure he took Brendon's virginity. There was a period after the first time they ever messed around where Brendon made out with other people, and he hasn't told Ryan all of the details, so he doesn't know for sure, but he's got a decent hunch. He lets everybody think it was Audrey, and Ryan doesn't know if it's because she really was the first girl or because it was her. He's doesn't think Brendon's ever told anyone about the two of them, about right before Brendon graduated, even though Ryan told Spencer halfway through recording, because he and Brendon got into a three stupid arguments in one day, and Ryan had no doubt that part of it was because things had gotten a little weird. So, Spencer knows. He wonders if Brendon's given him his perspective on it.

Ryan drags the heel of his foot across the ground, watching the groove it makes in the barren patch of dirt near the curb. He says, "I guess I don't get it," speaking slowly. He tries to work through the last couple months in his head and still hits the same wall.

"I don't know," Brendon says. "Unless, you're saying -- I'm not about to walk you through each day from then to now."

The smile he adopts is faint. He's trying to make it a joke, but Ryan says, "Did you kiss him first?"

"That's not --" Brendon says and cuts the thought there. "What the fuck?"

"You practically live together," Ryan says. "He has drawers here. What else am I supposed to focus on, if not the fucking details?"

"It just makes it weird," Brendon says.

"Because you're dating," Ryan reminds him. It's already sufficiently weird, Ryan would argue. They've decided to do whatever it is they're doing, and Spencer's supposed to be his best friend, and Ryan was fucking Brendon at least sporadically up until two months ago. And now Spencer's living here.

Ryan has spent a lot of time writing with Jon, both on tour and since, and he's spent time around other people, but in the meantime, he'd never thought that Brendon and Spencer were getting up to more than ultimate video game battles. His mistake. 

Brendon says, "Fuck. Jesus -- fuck, do you want a drawer? You're moving into your place in like a week, but if you want a fucking drawer -- "

"Don't be a dick about it," Ryan says.

"Yeah, I'd have to do a lot better to catch up with you right now." He pulls out his pack of cigarettes and takes out another to smoke. He pats his other pockets and curses under his breath. "Shit," he says. "I think I left my lighter in the house."

He seems more frustrated about it than he needs to be. Brendon pats his pockets again, searching, and when he still comes up empty-handed, he doesn't even put the cigarette back, just flicks it away. 

"Brendon," Ryan says.

"I'm going back inside," Brendon says flatly and starts walking. He doesn't pause this time, and Ryan moves even slower because of it, since there's no way he's about to rush if Brendon's going to be a child.

He lags behind several paces, watching the line of Brendon's shoulders and the way his arms sway a bit as he walks. Brendon's wearing flip-flops, smacking on the pavement. Ryan could let him go, could just let him be annoyed for the rest of the night and ignore the whole thing, but as Brendon reaches his porch, Ryan says his name again.

"Brendon," he says, with more strength than before. Brendon stops and looks over his shoulder.

He says, "What?" 

He isn't frowning, but Ryan notices the faint crease around his mouth, like he's half a second away from doing so. Ryan meets him on the porch, knocking the toe of his shoe against the step. Until recently, it hadn't taken so much effort to get Brendon to have sex with him, much less just _talk_ to Ryan. In the last few weeks though, he's found himself entertaining pathetic ideas about ignoring how hard it was to talk to Brendon because they were just better at fucking. He doesn't believe that so much, though. They were pretty good friends first.

Brendon's still looking at him expectantly, so Ryan says, "Can I use your car? I want to buy myself a new pack."

"You could have smoked one of mine," Brendon says, turning fully.

"I want Parliaments," he says.

Brendon takes a breath and lets it out just as quickly, shoulder bouncing. He says, "Well, here," and reaches for the carabiner on his belt loop with the house keys hooked on it as well.

"Thanks," Ryan says and takes a step back. He looks up as he scratches his below. "Need anything?"

Shaking his head, Brendon says, "No, I'm good," and knocks his hand against the post on the porch, "But thank you."

"Yeah," Ryan says. There's a lull then, and Brendon moves his shoulders, uneasy, so Ryan takes another step back and stops waiting for Brendon to, who knows, offer him a drawer again or something. "I'll be back in a minute then."

"Okay." 

Brendon lingers as Ryan heads toward the curb, and Ryan almost turns to ask him if he's sure, but when he looks back as he opens the driver's door, Brendon's inside already. And he's fine. He says he's fine, so Ryan takes his car and drives a couple blocks down.


End file.
